The Girl Who Waited
by MorningSkies
Summary: When Zara Vickers moves to Little Whinging and is forced to start a new school, she expects to spend the year alone and friendless. Little does she know, she'll meet a certain messy haired boy who will turn her world upside down...
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

I arrived in Little Whinging just in time to start year six at the local primary school. In other words the worst time in the world to make friends, since everyone had already known each other for years. I would be Zara Vickers- the new girl.

It was this that I was worried about when my parents' car followed the moving van along a little suburban street called Magnolia Crescent. Neither of my parents shared my concerns; my dad had been relocated for work into an office full of people he'd already met at national conferences, and my mother was confident that she would immediately make friends with the local 'ladies that lunch' (her words, not mine.)

Our new house was large, or at least it seemed that way when I was ten years old. My bedroom was spacious, with a view of the small park that bordered the back of the house, and the garden was like a little wilderness; weeds, tree stumps and the odd daisy littered the neglected lawn, something which I thought was quite cool looking, but which my mother took one look at and then called the first landscape gardener she found in the phone book.

By far the best thing about the new house, however, was the attic. It was undoubtedly creepy, with its low beams and dark corners, but as soon as I set foot in it, I knew this would make a great den. The only potential problem was convincing my parents to decorate it- somehow I doubted Mum would want me skulking in a loft all day- but I would cross that bridge when I came to it. For now, I was happy to drag my toys up there and imagine how I could transform the room.

* * *

My father had one week off work to sort out the move, and then he was back to the office five days a week. I always hated watching him drive off to work, mainly because this claustrophobic feeling washed over me as I realised that I would have to wait for years before I was allowed to disappear off like that.

On the first day that he went back to work, I was sitting at the breakfast table, eating scrambled eggs and thinking about the book I was currently reading, while my mother chattered away on the phone to someone.

'What a nice idea!' she exclaimed, 'I'm sure they would be great friends. And of course I'm sure you could introduce me to some of the ladies around here.'

The person at the other end of the line said something in response that I couldn't make out. I had a horrible feeling that whatever my mother was planning would involve me; it was incredibly rare that I enjoyed her plans.

'Well, how about you pop over for some tea this morning?' asked my mother.

There was a reply from the other end and my mother laughed her fake laugh, 'Yes, that'll be fine. I'll see you around eleven, Petunia.'

She put the phone down and turned to me, 'Zara, I've invited a lady I met the other day around for tea. She is absolutely delightful. And she's bringing her son with her.'

I stared blankly back, unsure exactly what to say to this. Mum was always much more enthusiastic about me meeting new people than I ever was.

'Now, why don't you go and put that new dress on?' she suggested, ignoring my lack of response.

I instantly pictured the dress she was talking about. It had been the pinkest one in the shop, and as an added bonus had the most ruffles. Needless to say, she'd snapped it up, and had been looking for an occasion to manhandle me into it ever since.

'Okay,' I sighed, resigning myself to spending the day wearing the monstrosity.

'You might want to go and get ready!' she insisted, glancing down at her watch.

Grudgingly, I headed upstairs and found the pink and white dress waiting in my wardrobe. I put it on and found it was even worse than I imagined when I looked in the mirror.

'How does it look?' Mum shouted up the stairs.

Horrific? Nauseating? Like a trifle?

'Erm, it looks good,' I call back.

'Great. Do you need me to curl your hair for you as well?'

I recoiled with horror at the thought of having my hair curled- last time Mum did it, she turned my poker straight blonde hair into corkscrew curls that made me look like an American beauty pageant child.

'No, it's fine!' I said hurriedly.

I spent the next couple of hours reading; I had discovered _'The Hobbit' _the other day and hadn't been able to put it down since.

'Zara, come down please!' called Mum, the same note of anxiety that was always in her voice just before she had to play hostess.

A horrible squirming sensation in my stomach, I slowly walked down the stairs, just as Mum pulled open the door.

A thin woman with a long neck and pinched face was standing on the doorstep, wearing a flowery dress that was a similar style to my mother's fashion sense. Her hand clutched the shoulder of an impossibly large blonde boy who looked a similar age to me. He also looked as happy as I was to be there.

'Welcome, welcome!' smiled my mother extravagantly, 'It's lovely to see you again, Petunia. This is my daughter, Zara.'

'Hello,' smiled the woman, taking at step inside with her scowling son, 'This is my son, Dudley.'

It could not have been clearer, as Petunia Dursley looked around the house nosily and asked Mum every detail about the move that she was simply here to get a look at her new neighbours. Mum either didn't notice, or didn't mind if she did, because soon they were gossiping away about every topic under the sun.

'Hello,' I said to the boy, mainly because it was incredibly awkward standing there in silence while our mothers discussed the dress size of Mrs Next Door.

'Hi,' he said, in a dismissive sort of voice.

Well if he wanted to be rude, that was his problem, I thought indignantly. He didn't look like the kind of person anyone would want to be friends with anyway; his little piggy eyes kept darting towards the table which my mum had laden with sandwiches and cake.

'So, will Zara be starting at Brookside Primary?' I heard Petunia Dursley ask my mother.

'Yes, she's starting next week. She's a bit worried about having to start in year six, but I keep telling her it'll be fine.'

'Oh Dudders will look after her, won't you?' Petunia glanced down at her son, who spared me one glare and then resumed his ogling of the food. He ignored his mother as though no one had spoken.

Petunia pressed on nevertheless, 'Oh yes, it is a good school. Dudley has gotten on very well there, he has so many friends.'

'That's nice,' said Mum, seemingly oblivious to Dudley's obviously horrible nature, 'Do you have just the one child?'

For some reason Petunia look slightly flustered at this question, and her lips pressed into a slight frown.

'Yes,' she said, after a moment, 'My husband and I are currently looking after my nephew though.'

My mother put on her sympathetic expression, which usually meant she wanted gossip, 'Oh dear. Troubles at home I assume?'

'My sister and her husband passed away.'

My mother looked mortified for a moment and hastily rearranged her features into a sombre expression, 'Oh, I am so sorry. I had no idea.'

Petunia waved her apologies away, 'Don't be. She was the wrong sort, and her husband was nothing more than a lay-about.'

'Unemployed?' asked my mother, ushering Petunia into a chair.

Petunia nodded, 'Couldn't hold down a job from what I heard; I assume he must have scrounged hand-outs. Of course, my husband, Vernon, and I kept our distance from them.'

'It is disgusting how much theses lay-abouts are given, while hard working people like us have to toil for our money,' agreed my mother, as she handed Petunia a thick slice of Victoria Sponge.

'Oh, I agree,' said Petunia, taking a sip of tea, 'I can't abide lazy people who spend their days doing nothing.'

I listened to their exchange with a slightly incredulous look on my face. Somehow the conversation had switched from Petunia Dursley's dead sister to unemployment benefit in the space of about thirty seconds.

I glanced at the stairs and wondered if I'd be able to sneak away and read my book without being spotted. As if reading my mind, however, my mother turned her attention to me.

'Zara, why don't you and Dudley take some cake and go and sit in the garden?'

Dudley's piggy little eyes lit up and he hurried over to the table to help himself to cake. I watched him put half a dozen cupcakes on a plate and found that my own appetite had somewhat diminished.

Nevertheless, like the jellyfish I was, I did as I was told and led him outside into the garden which had recently been tamed into submission by a landscaper.

I sat down on the grass, but Dudley remained standing, apparently worried he'd lose eating time if he bothered to sit. I watched in fascination as he managed to consume half his plateful in the space of five minutes; evidently he was no novice eater.

'I'm Zara,' I said in an attempt at politeness, when he took a break from his cakes.

'Hello,' grunted Dudley in response, before returning to his food.

Well if he didn't want to talk then that was fine with me. My thoughts returned to '_The Hobbit', b_ut this obviously gave me a slightly glazed look which Dudley noticed.

'What's wrong with you?' he asked in the same grunting tone of voice.

'Nothing,' I said, my attention grudgingly returning to the boy in front of me.

'You're weird,' he declared.

'No I'm not,' I protested weakly.

'I bet you are,' continued Dudley, 'I bet you didn't have any friends at your old school.'

That wasn't strictly true; I did have some really good friends. It was just that I'd always been one to prefer small groups, and would happily spend lunchtimes sitting with a book. I didn't think I was necessarily antisocial; I was just a bit awkward.

He laughed at my silence and shovelled another cupcake into his mouth, leaving me to worry that every other new person I met would think I was weird too…

* * *

Time seemed to fly past at the speed of light over the next week. My nerves about starting a new school had built up so much that it was as if a dancing flock of butterflies had permanently taken residence in my stomach.

To make matters worse, it seemed as if I was the only one in the family who was fazed by the move. My father would return home from work every evening bursting with anecdotes about his day and the team he was working with; his old office was completely forgotten. My mother was similarly upbeat and, to my disbelief, had struck up a solid friendship with Petunia Dursley, who had been over for tea more times than I cared to think about. The two of them would sit for hours, chatting about Mrs Next Door's weight problems and Mrs Across The Street's problem daughter; it seemed that at long last, my mother had found someone equally as fond of gossip.

Meanwhile, I spent most of the time before school started sitting in the loft reading. I had managed to convince Dad to give it a lick of paint after work one evening, and it had brightened the place up into quite a nice den. I'd dragged blankets and posters up there and convinced myself that it was my own private hide out, away from Mum and Petunia Dursley, and away from the worries about school.

But unfortunately, I had to come out of the attic sometime, and that time came when school started.

* * *

When Mum dropped me off at Brookside Primary School on the first day of term, I was half tempted to refuse to get out of the car. I managed to pull myself together, but as we walked towards the headmistress' office, people stared at me. I could only assume that because it was a tiny little school, they weren't used to new students. Whatever the reason, it wasn't a nice feeling.

Mum had a quick chat with the headmistress and then I found myself whisked along the corridors to my new class. I hesitated outside the door until it was suddenly pulled open by a woman in her mid- twenties with a kind expression.

'Hello,' she smiled down at me, 'you must be Zara Vickers.'

I nodded, unsure what to say to this.

'Nice to meet you, I'm Miss Thompson. Come in.'

I followed her into the classroom, where I found fifteen pairs of eyes staring at me, including the piggy little eyes of Dudley Dursley. I stood at the front, unsure exactly what to do with myself.

Miss Thompson, meanwhile, sat down at her desk and smiled at the class.

'Okay, this is our new student, Zara; I'm sure all of you will help her get used to our school.'

She turned to me, 'Zara, why don't you go and take a seat over there?'

She pointed me towards the only desk which was occupied by only one person. I headed over, feeling incredibly self-conscious, and found myself sitting next to a small boy with jet black hair that stuck up in every direction.

'Hi,' I said to the boy, feeling rather daring for once.

He gave me an odd look, as though unused to people talking to him. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Dudley and the rat-faced boy he was sitting next to were watching me and chuckling.

'Hello,' said the boy, still watching me warily, 'I'm Harry.'

'Zara,' I replied, giving him a smile which he returned cautiously.

Miss Thompson began taking a register, which was evidently the cue for everyone to start talking to one another. I saw that Dudley and his friend were still looking my way and snickering.

'I hate that boy,' I muttered, more to myself than anything else.

Harry's gaze followed the direction of my own and he pulled a face, 'Tell me about it.'

Feeling quite pleased that I obviously wasn't the only one who couldn't stand Dudley, I rolled my eyes at Harry, 'Is he always like that?'

'Yeah,' nodded Harry, 'I would know. I have to live with him.'

My mouth dropped open in a gasp, 'Poor you!'

I scrutinised Harry's appearance for a moment, and concluded that there was not one shred of physical similarity between him and Dudley. 'Are you related?'

'Unfortunately, yes,' muttered Harry, 'He's my cousin.'

I was about to express my sympathies when I suddenly remembered what Petunia Dursley had said the first time I met her. It was something about her having to look after her nephew, because both his parents had passed away.

I glanced at Harry, and my good mood that had come from laughing at Dudley instantly vanished. Had his parents really died? I couldn't imagine what that must be like. Yes, my mother drove me mad sometimes, but I couldn't imagine her not being there.

'What?' asked Harry, clearly wondering why I was staring so intently at him.

'Oh nothing,' I said, quickly averting my eyes.

'What?' he persisted.

'Oh, it's just that your aunt is friends with my mum and she mentioned you,' I said, deliberately trying to avoid having to discuss what she said.

Harry rolled his eyes and shot a glare at Dudley, 'I can imagine what she said.'

'Don't you get on with her and Dudley?' I asked, frowning slightly as I thought about how awful it must be to live in house with people you dislike.

'Nope,' said Harry, shaking his head, 'Nor my uncle.'

I was silent for a moment, mulling over the situation. I just couldn't understand it; Harry was clearly a much nicer person than his cousin, yet it seemed as though Petunia Dursley greatly favoured Dudley over Harry. I wondered what on earth could make her dislike her own nephew so much, especially when her sister had died.

As I was thinking about this, I noticed that it wasn't just Dudley who was looking at me and Harry. In fact, most of the class were glancing at us, looking either surprised or amused, and whispering things to the person they were sitting next to.

'Do you have any friends here?' I asked Harry, with the typical bluntness of a ten year old.

'Not really,' he admitted, 'Dudley hates me and everyone else is scared of him.'

I looked round at the gawping faces and found anger build up inside of me.

I turned back to Harry and gave him my biggest smile, 'Well, I don't have any friends here either. How about me and you become friends?'

* * *

And that was the day when I met the boy who would become my best friend. Of course I had no idea that I had just encountered the person who would have the biggest impact of my life out of everyone I'd ever meet; I was just the new girl pleased that someone had spoken to her.

Harry and I became inseparable for the rest of primary school. We were one another's only true friend and were completely joined at the hip despite protestations from my mother and Harry's aunt.

I did have one worry though, as the school year drew to a close. In September, I had a place at the nearby public school, Smeltings, while Harry was going to Stonewall High. The injustice of it made my blood boil; the Dursleys were more than happy to pay for Dudley's schooling, but refused to spend a penny on Harry, even though I had heard Petunia Dursley telling my mum that they could easily have afforded it. I knew I would only see Harry in the holidays, something which made me feel increasingly gloomy. Little did I know, things wouldn't turn out quite that way…

* * *

**Hope you liked the first chapter! This story will be set during the summer holidays before Harry returns to Hogwarts. So they'll probably be a chapter per school year.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading. It'd be great if you left a review and let me know what you thought :) **


	2. Summer 1991- Part One

**Chapter One **

**Summer 1991**

When the bell rang at ten past three to signal the end of the school day on 10th July, I was partly ecstatic and partly devastated- today was the last day of primary school. On the one hand, I would never have to have anything to do with my classmates again. Not Hannah, the angelic looking blonde who gave the hardest pinches, not Jenny who passed on any secret she heard, as well as making others up for good measure, and not Dudley's gang, who seemed to spend all of their time laughing at me.

All of this was definitely cause for celebration, yet, as Miss Thompson made a little speech about moving on into our futures, I turned to the person sitting next to me and suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to cry.

'What's wrong?' muttered Harry, noticing that I was looking at him rather than our teacher.

What was wrong? Everything was wrong, I thought melodramatically.

In September, I would be enrolling at Smeltings College, a public school in Kent, while Harry was due to attend Stonewall High, a local comprehensive situated in the centre of town. I had begged and pleaded with my parents to allow me to go to Stonewall as well, but my mother refused to budge on the issue. As she told me again and again, Smeltings came highly recommended from Petunia Dursley, whose husband had been a pupil there himself.

And that was where the true injustice of the situation came in. While the Dursleys were more than happy to pay for Dudley's school fees, they refused to do the same for Harry.

'What's wrong?' repeated Harry, 'You look really upset.'

'This is the last time we're going to be at school together!' I hissed quietly, so that Miss Thompson and the rest of the class wouldn't hear me.

'I know,' said Harry, looking rather glum.

I knew him well enough to realise that it was hopeless to try and encourage further conversation on the subject. He had a habit of shutting himself off whenever he didn't want to talk about something, and then bringing the topic up later on when I'd forgotten about it.

So instead I turned back towards the front of the class and forced myself to listen to Miss Thompson's farewell speech.

'… You're all going to different secondary schools, but I'm certain none of you will forget one another.'

Dudley caught my eye at that moment and gave me his trademark evil smirk that I always felt was rather undeserved. After all, I'd never done anything to him. I could only suppose that my friendship with Harry was enough to get me black listed. Holding my ground, I stared back into his piggy little eyes and hoped that when we got to Smeltings we were put in different classes and never ran into one another; the thought of having to spend the next seven years at the same school as Dudley really was unpleasant.

'Well, I don't think there's much more for me to say,' said Miss Thompson, standing up and beaming at us all, 'except that I wish you all the best at your next schools.'

When she finished speaking, everyone stood up and began gathering their things together. It was a strange feeling, packing away my pencil case for the last time. Harry didn't seem to have similar qualms. He stuffed his own things into his rucksack and leant against the desk waiting for me to do the same.

'I don't mean to rush you,' he laughed as I took my time zipping up my bag, 'But I was planning on getting home before midnight.'

'Okay, okay,' I huffed, feeling a little annoyed at his mood; surely he must be slightly upset that we would never have a day of school together again?

As soon as I swung my bag onto my shoulder, he headed out of the classroom door without so much as a goodbye to anyone. I hesitated slightly as I watched several of the girls hug Miss Thompson, but since Harry was already half way down the corridor, I merely waved goodbye to her and hurried after him.

Harry didn't slow down his pace until we were out of the school and strolling across the car park. It wasn't until he glanced over his shoulder, realised no one was there, and then started walking at a normal pace, that I understood; he was trying to avoid Dudley.

I glanced at my best friend, with his baggy uniform and sellotaped glasses, and felt a strange feeling of relief on his behalf wash over me. Although I wouldn't be at school with Harry anymore, I could at least console myself with the thought that he would at last be free of Dudley.

'What?' asked Harry, noticing I was staring at him.

'Nothing,' I said quickly, not wanting to share my thoughts with him. We'd spoken a lot about Dudley but I never liked bringing it up myself- I didn't want Harry to think I pitied him in any way.

'Want to take a detour through the park?' asked Harry, giving me his usual lopsided grin.

'Sure,' I said, my melancholy mood instantly lifting. Over the past year, Harry and I had spent endless hours in the park at the back of my house. It was exactly what a park should be in my opinion- filled with trees, untameable grass and swings which went impossibly high.

We took our usual route, ducking between the hedges and down a creepy little alleyway, before finding ourselves on the edge of the park.

As soon as we were there, Harry smirked at me and then took off across the green. Laughing, I ran after him and soon we were sprinting towards the swings, our school bags trailing behind us.

'Beat you!' I shouted throwing myself onto what was widely acknowledged as the best swing because of the height it could get to, 'you really need to speed up, Harry.'

He threw me a fake glare, tossed his bag on the floor, and sat on the swing next to mine. We'd been doing that for months now, and I was still convinced that he let me win most of the time.

'How old do you think we'll be when we finally stop doing this?' laughed Harry, leaning back in the swing and kicking off the ground with his feet.

'Maybe when we're thirty,' I concede, as I try in vain to make my swing go higher than Harry's, 'Or maybe we'll just keep doing it until we're pensioners.'

'Sounds good to me,' laughed Harry, kicking out his legs so that he maintained the height advantage.

'That's unfair! You've got longer legs!'

'That doesn't make any difference!'

'Yes it does!'

In response he simply smirked at me and pushed his swing even higher. In what was a rather stupid move, I leant over and grabbed the chain of his swing, trying to slow him down. Of course my grasp of physics was rather appalling when I was eleven, so before I knew it our seats crashed into one another and we were both catapulted to the ground.

Luckily the ground was soft, but it was still rather painful as we landed in a heap underneath the swings.

'Well done, Zara,' said Harry sarcastically, his voice muffled by the fact that he'd fallen onto his rucksack.

'Sorry about that,' I laughed, as I detangled myself from Harry and staggered to my feet. He did the same, and brushed dirt from his clothes.

'I'm not going to survive to be a pensioner if you're around,' he said, as he attempted to frown but couldn't stop a smile playing at his lips, 'At least I'll be safe when I get to Stonewall.'

My good mood vanished immediately upon hearing his words. For a few minutes I'd completely forgotten about the secondary school problem, as I just had fun with my best friend. Only now Harry reminded me, and it made me feel incredibly gloomy.

I sat down on the grass and rested my chin in my hands. What if I didn't find a friend like Harry when I was at Smeltings? And what if he didn't fit in at Stonewall? As I was worrying about this, however, a smaller voice in my head wondered, what if he made lots of new friends and completely forgot about me?

Harry threw himself down onto the grass next to me and twisted round to face me.

'We'll always be friends, Zara. I promise,' he said quietly.

I looked fiercely into his emerald eyes, trying to express my anguish, 'You don't know that, Harry!'

'Yes I do!' he insisted, returning my gaze with even more ferocity, 'No matter what happens in September, we'll still be best friends. You're my first friend, Zara.'

'I'm your only friend.'

'That too,' he conceded.

I had to laugh at that and before I knew it we were both rolling around on the grass laughing our hearts out. What did it matter if we went to different schools? Nothing would ever change between us…

* * *

When I pushed open the front door, I immediately sensed that I was in trouble. Normally when I got home from school, I would find my mother chattering on the phone to someone or cooking dinner. This time, however, I found her sitting at the kitchen table, her make-up coated face etched with a mixture of anger and worry.

As soon as I entered the kitchen, she leapt up from her seat and hurried over to me, a furious expression setting in.

'Zara, where on earth have you been?'

I glanced at the wall clock and realised with a jolt that it was half five and that school had finished over two hours ago. Clearly Harry and I had completely lost track of time while we were in the park.

'I'm really sorry,' I said truthfully as I thought about how worried Mum must have been, 'I didn't think it was so late.'

'I have been worried sick!' she exclaimed, running her hand through her hair and making it stick up, 'Where were you?'

'I was just in the park with Harry,' I muttered, cowering slightly before her rage.

This explanation however, only served to make her angrier. Indeed as soon as I mentioned Harry's name, her eyes bulged slightly and her eyebrows sunk into a frown. Of course this only made my own anger rise; her dislike for Harry was completely irrational and based on the bile that she heard from Petunia Dursley.

'I have told you again and again that I don't like you spending so much time with him,' she exclaimed, her voice getting higher and higher.

'Why not?' I demanded, putting my hands on my hips in the way I always did when I got annoyed about something, 'He's my best friend.'

You would have thought someone had died, she looked so aggrieved by my words. While I had known for a year that my mother was disappointed that I spent all my time with Harry rather than other members of my class, I didn't realise she felt so much antipathy towards him.

'Zara,' she said, taking a step towards me and forcing her face into what she evidently assumed was an understanding expression, 'I know that you get on very well with Harry, and I'm, glad that you have such a close friend. But I really think you should try and widen your social circle a bit, it's not healthy to spend so much time with one person. Especially not-'

She checked herself but I knew she had been about to say something about Harry's character and circumstances. For God's sake, it wasn't his fault that his parents had died and he was forced to live with his psychopathic aunt and uncle!

Perhaps realising that I was about to argue back, she attempted a smile, 'Oh well, I'm sure you'll make lots of new friends when you get to Smeltings. Actually, talking of Smeltings you need to go and get ready.'

'Why?' I asked, wondering if she'd finally lost it; term didn't start until September.

'Because we have the parent-student induction night this evening, remember?'

Oh God, how could I have forgotten that? I'd been dreading it for weeks. The Smeltings induction night was where all the upcoming year seven students and their parents gathered to be introduced to one another and to receive a talk about the school. In other words, it would be the perfect demonstrator of the fact that I would inevitably spend my time at Smeltings without any close friends.

I nodded sulkily at my mother and traipsed up the stairs to my bedroom. Knowing fully well that she would want me to wear a girly dress that evening, I purposely chose a pair of jeans and a t-shirt; it wasn't scruffy but it would no doubt serve its purpose and annoy my mother.

Once I'd changed, I headed back out of my bedroom, opened the celling trapdoor for the attic, pulled down the ladder and clambered up.

I'd spent so much time in the loft over the past year that it was something of a second bedroom. Harry and I had snuck a tin of paint up there and coloured the beams red and green. I'd also taken up loads of cushions, rugs and blankets, and had persuaded my dad to lift the old coffee table up there as well. The overall effect was garish and mismatched, but it was mine and Harry's own hideout. We spent so much time up there plotting revenge against Dudley and making marshmallow and chocolate biscuit sandwiches.

It wasn't quite so good being up there alone, but it was better than going downstairs and having to listen to my mother's ramblings. So I collapsed onto an old sofa cushion and grabbed the book that I'd left up there.

I was reading for perhaps half an hour when my mother began shouting for me.

'Zara! Zara, where are you?'

'I'm up in the attic,' I called back.

I heard her sigh of frustration, 'Can you come down here please?'

Sighing myself, I put my book back, flicked off the light and climbed back down the ladder.

Mum was standing on the landing, wearing one of her floral skirt and blouse combos and tapping her foot impatiently.

'There you are!' she exclaimed, 'I don't know why you insist on spending so much time in that dusty attic, Zara.'

I didn't answer her, not particularly wanting a second argument in the space of thirty minutes.

'We need to go,' she continued, 'Your father's running late at the office so we're meeting him at the Smeltings induction.'

'Okay,' I said, wondering why on earth something so simple was the cause of so much fretting.

Her eyes took in my outfit and she made a face, 'You're not really wearing that are you?'

'Yes, I am,' I confirmed.

She pursed her lips but didn't say anything else. Instead she gestured for me to go downstairs and she quickly followed me. While she fetched her handbag, I glanced at my reflection in the hallway mirror. I didn't look _that _bad, did I? My clothes were casual but they were clean and of good quality. Granted my hair was just hanging in its usual straight, blonde self, but I personally preferred it like that, rather than when my mother insisted on shaping it into bouncy curls.

No, all in all I thought I looked pretty normal. But normal just wasn't good enough for my mother, I thought bitterly, as she bustled into the hall and reapplied her pink lipstick in front of the mirror.

'You know I think you could start wearing make up in a year or so,' she commented absent-mindedly.

I couldn't think of a response for this that wouldn't result in me being told off, so instead I just walked outside in disbelief.

The drive took just under an hour and when we arrived my stomach dropped slightly as I took in just how many cars were there; this was not going to be a low key event in any way.

I walked through the car park with my mother, who was completely in her element as she picked out the most expensive car makes and told me to befriend the owners' children. We were then shepherded into a large hall which was already full of upcoming students and their parents. Most of them already seemed to be sitting in groups and talking to one another. Just as I thought it couldn't get any worse, however, someone suddenly called out my mother's name.

'Linda, over here!'

Sitting a few feet away at a round table, were Petunia, Vernon and Dudley Dursley. Of course as soon as my mother saw the amazing Petunia, she bounded over to give them all air kisses.

Feeling as though I was voluntarily walking into a lion's cage, I took a seat next to Dudley, who showed no sign of acknowledgement.

'Good evening,' said Vernon to my mother, 'Hello, Zara.'

I glanced at the round man with the thick moustache whom I had heard so much about from Harry.

'Hi,' I said rather curtly.

My mother spared me one discreet glare, before turning her attention back to the Dursleys.

'Oh it's so lovely that Zara and Dudley will be at school together!' she exclaimed.

'Isn't it just?' agreed Petunia.

They both glanced at Dudley and I as though they hadn't noticed the mutual antipathy radiating off of us.

'Isn't Mark coming?' asked Petunia nosily.

'He got held up at work, he should be here any moment though.'

Bored with their conversation, I took the chance to look around the room and see who my new classmates would be. My gaze fell on the table next to ours, where a fairly similar situation seemed to be playing out. Two sets of parents were talking animatedly, while two girls chatted excitedly to each other. A third girl sitting at the table looked quite as fed up as me.

I caught her eye and she rolled her eyes at me, gesturing at the other two girls at her table. I giggled and did the same but pointing at Dudley.

Well it seemed like there would be at least one person who I'd get on with next year, I thought, feeling my mood lift considerably.

I turned my attention back to my mother and the Dursleys' conversation, just in time to hear Petunia.

'I know, why don't you, Mark and Zara come round for dinner tomorrow evening?' she suggested to my mother.

'Ooh we'd love to. Actually it'll probably be a chance to encourage Zara and Dudley to become better friends.'

Dudley and I glanced at one another and I could tell we were both thinking identical thoughts at that moment: fat chance.

I did want to go over for dinner, though, because it would mean I could see Harry. My parents were often a bit funny about me seeing him at the weekends, since they usually liked us to do things together as a family. But now I had the chance to see Harry, and no doubt make fun of Dudley along the way. Things were looking up.

* * *

The Smeltings induction dragged on for hours, although my lucky father's car broke down on his way there, ensuring he had to get a taxi and got away with arriving twenty minutes before the end. By the time we got back to my mother's car, I was half asleep and we'd only been driving for five minutes when my eyelids fluttered shut and I drifted off.

I came round some fifteen minutes later after a motorbike raced loudly past us, to hear my parents talking in unusually quiet voices.

'They're just kids, Linda.'

'Yes but she spends all her time with him, Mark. And from what Petunia's told me, he's exactly like his waste and stray parents.'

'Look, Linda, they're going to different schools in September. They'll drift apart, that's what children do.'

'But what about during the holidays? You know how stubborn Zara is, she'll insist on seeing him.'

'Is it really that catastrophic if she does?'

'Yes! Believe me, Mark, Petunia has told me in no uncertain terms that he's no good. Did you know he was caught climbing onto the school roof the other week?'

I shut my eyes and pretended to still be asleep, rather than let them know I'd heard their conversation. It was a struggle to control my anger, however, and I swore to myself that I would make it clear at dinner tomorrow that I couldn't care less about what they thought of Harry…

* * *

**Hope you liked the second chapter! And thanks for the lovely reviews I got for the first one :) **

**I plan on there being one more chapter for this summer, and then it'll skip to the summer after Harry's first year. **

**Leave me a review and let me know what you thought. **


	3. Summer 1991- Part Two

**Chapter Two**

**Summer 1991**

The following morning I woke up early, my head full of the conversation I'd heard the previous evening. I lay in bed for half an hour or so, staring up at the plastered celling and wondering what on earth Harry had done to make people dislike him so much. Petunia Dursley had obviously carried a vendetta against her sister and simply transferred it to her nephew; Harry had told me that she forbade all questions about his parents.

After mulling things over for a while, I found myself desperate to stop thinking, so I rolled out of bed and pulled on my dressing gown. Heading downstairs, I was surprised to hear a voice coming from the kitchen considering the fact that it was only half seven in the morning.

I pushed open the door, just in time to see my father jump slightly and put down the phone.

'Morning,' I said, slightly warily as I wondered what he was doing up so early; my mother usually struggled to get him out of bed before ten on a Saturday morning.

'Hello, love,' he said, attempting a smile which looked rather strained, 'Sorry if I woke you. There's a bit of a crisis at work at the moment.'

I didn't have any inclination to pursue the topic, since my mind was occupied by thoughts of Harry and my parents' conversation. Instead I headed over to the cupboard and pulled out my usual cereal.

I was eating for about five minutes when my mother arrived in the kitchen, looking surprised to see both of us up.

'It's a bit early for you Mark, isn't it?' she asked my dad, her eyes narrowing slightly in the way they always did when she was suspicious about something.

'I just fancied a cup of coffee,' he said, as he messed around with the fancy coffee machine that no one actually knew how to work, 'Do you want one?'

'Yes please,' she said, glancing at him for a moment before turning her attention towards me, 'Good morning, Zara.'

'Hello,' I said rather dismissively, remembering how she had spoken about Harry the previous evening.

For once, however, she ignored my attitude and took a seat next to me.

'So, we're going over to the Dursleys' for dinner tonight,' she explained.

'Yes, I know. I was there when you arranged it.'

'Don't be cheeky, Zara,' she snapped, 'I was just going to say that I want you to make a big effort with Dudley tonight.'

'Why?' I gasped, as I practically choked on my cornflakes. The thought of having a conversation with Dudley really was unpleasant; I wasn't even sure if he knew what the word conversation meant. Anyway, I planned on spending the night sitting with Harry, discreetly laughing at everyone else.

'Because you're both going to Smeltings in September and I think it would be lovely if the two of you got on better.'

I pulled a face; using the word lovely in the same sentence as Dudley Dursley should be illegal. Surely my mother wasn't so blind that she didn't know a lost cause when she saw one?

'He's the school bully!' I protested, amazed at her ignorance, 'He's horrible, and he's got a gang. They all hate me!'

'I'm sure they don't hate you,' said Mum, rolling her eyes, 'Now I'm going to go and get washed up. Be nice to Dudley tonight, Zara!'

Luckily she left the kitchen at that point and missed my rather impolite response.

* * *

I spent most of the morning at Little Whinging's library, hunting through the shelves for books which I hadn't read yet. I could easily spend hours in book shops or libraries, but my mother usually dragged me away to go into clothes shops. Choosing a new book took a while because I'd already read most of the children's ones, but I eventually settled on the first _Lord of the Rings, _reasoning that I would probably like it since I'd loved _The Hobbit. _I'd lent _The Hobbit _to Harry a couple of months ago and we spent ages discussing it; in our minds fire breathing dragons and wizards with long grey beards were as real as anything.

When I got back from the library, my parents were having a conversation in the kitchen with the door closed, so I headed upstairs and climbed into the attic. I spent the rest of the day reading my new book until my mother called for me to come down and get ready.

By seven o clock that evening, I had been forced into a dress and was waiting in the hallway for my parents. Admittedly this dress wasn't quite as bad as last year's pink and white trifle, but it still wasn't what I'd choose to wear given the chance. My mother came bustling down the stairs in a purple cocktail dress, followed by my father who had put on a suit for the dinner. Honestly, you'd have thought they had an appointment with the Queen, not just a meal at the neighbours' house.

Since Privet Drive was the street adjacent to ours, we walked to the Dursleys', something which gave me the chance to begin to feel nervous. What if my parents were rude to Harry? I had fleeting vision of them sitting with Petunia and Vernon Dursley, all loudly discussing his imaginary faults.

I didn't have long to worry about this, however, because we soon reached number four. I'd hardly ever been inside the Dursleys' house before, mainly because Harry liked to spend as much time away from there as possible; we usually spent our days at the park or in my attic. The house was very similar to that of my parents and every other home in the area; spacious, suburban, stifling.

As soon as my parents and I arrived, the front door was instantly opened by Petunia while Vernon stood slightly behind her, both of them wearing equally unappealing smiles. I noticed with a smirk that Petunia's dress was identical to my mother's except for the fact that it was pink rather than purple; Vernon was also wearing a suit. I wondered if they'd purposely coordinated their outfits or if it was just a happy coincidence.

'Linda, Mark!' smiled Petunia, leaning forward to kiss both of my parents on the cheek, 'Come in, come in.'

We were ushered into the lounge, where Dudley and Harry were waiting. Dudley was leaning back in a large armchair, a bowtie at his throat and a thoroughly annoyed expression on his piggy little features. Harry was sitting on the opposite side of the room, wearing a checked shirt that would have been rather smart had it not been so baggy on him; he waved at me enthusiastically.

'Move up,' I said, squeezing myself next to him.

'Hiya,' he grinned, 'looking forward to tonight?'

'Can't wait,' I muttered sarcastically, 'Dudley looks like he's having fun.'

Harry looked over at his cousin and smirked, 'Doesn't he just?'

Meanwhile, the Dursleys made a show of ushering my parents onto one of the sofas and pouring drinks for them.

'What would you like, Zara?' asked Petunia, flashing me her fakest smile that was incredibly similar to my mother's, 'We have lemonade if you'd like?'

'That'd be nice, thanks,' I replied politely, even if I was secretly fantasising about pouring said lemonade all over her pretty dress because of the way she treated Harry.

Petunia bustled off into the kitchen and returned a minute later with two glasses of iced lemonade. She handed one to Dudley and presented the second to me; Harry was given nothing.

I glanced at him but he just shook his head as if to say he was used to it. Without really thinking about what I was doing, I squeezed his hand with my own, while wishing there was something I could do about his aunt and uncle. If only I could turn them all into toads or something.

My parents and the Dursleys quickly struck up conversation with each other (mainly complaining about every topic under the sun) while Dudley lounged in his seat and scowled at everyone in the room. Meanwhile I seized the chance to talk with Harry.

'How was the Smeltings thing last night?' he laughed.

I pulled a face, 'As bad as I thought it would be. You didn't miss much.'

'I didn't think I would,' he chuckled, and then his face suddenly turned sour, 'I had to go to Mrs Figg's house.'

'Poor you,' I sympathised, thinking about the batty old lady who lived down the road and collected cats.

He was about to say something else when Petunia Dursley's voice suddenly rang out, 'Shall we go to the table?'

We all headed through to the dining room, where the table was laden with wine glasses and silver cutlery. I took a seat next to Harry but, to my disgust, Petunia ushered Dudley into the chair on the other side of me. Dudley spared me one contemptuous glare and then turned to ogle the food that his mother was bringing in from the kitchen.

The smoked salmon course passed without much drama. The adults discussed politics (one of their favourite things to have a moan about), while Dudley broke a record for fastest eater, and Harry and I chatted about what we could do over the summer.

It was only when Petunia presented the main course of slow roasted lamb that things started to deteriorate. By this point, my parents and the Dursleys had each had a few glasses of wine, and this was beginning to show in Vernon, who was growing louder and more red faced with every sip.

Meanwhile, the conversation had moved on to the government and everyone was getting very opinionated; it really was quite amusing to watch.

'That's exactly the problem!' exclaimed Vernon loudly in response to something my father said, 'Major just hasn't got the backbone that Mrs Thatcher had. It was a sad day for our country when she was hounded out of office, a very sad day indeed.'

I chuckled to myself at his ruddy complexion and caught Harry's eye. Harry looked at his uncle and snorted in amusement.

'Are you finding something funny?' Vernon suddenly boomed at Harry, causing the room to fall silent.

'No,' said Harry, shaking his head.

Vernon stared at him with the same piggy eyes as Dudley for a few moments before turning his attention back to the conversation.

'Isn't it lovely that Dudley and Zara will be going to Smeltings together?' simpered Petunia, giving her son a lovely look which he ignored.

'Oh absolutely,' agreed my mother.

'You were a pupil there weren't you Vernon?' asked my father.

'Yes,' confirmed Vernon, 'It's the best school around by far. They don't let any riff-raff in.'

'I suppose they go to Stonewall or some other comprehensive,' laughed my mother.

I stared at her in disbelief, unsure if that was a direct jibe at Harry or just aimed at all state school attendees in general. Either way, it was a bit uncalled for in my opinion. I glanced at Harry out of the corner of my eye and saw that his expression was rather set.

'Oh yes,' agreed Petunia, her eyes flickering over to her nephew.

'Did you not want to send Harry to Smeltings?' asked my father, earning himself a subtle glare from my mother; I didn't think this was a particularly daring question to ask however- it was merely serving to remind Harry of the Dursleys' favouritism towards Dudley.

'I'm not paying for it,' said Vernon gruffly, 'His parents should have thought of that when they didn't leave us a penny for his upkeep.'

'They didn't leave you anything?' gasped my mother.

I wanted to scream at them all to stop talking, but I couldn't find my voice. Harry was staring at the wall, as though trying to tune out what everyone was saying.

'Not a penny,' repeated Vernon, picking up the bottle of wine to refill everyone's glasses, 'Lay-abouts they were, scrounged from the government. Our taxes paid for them to laze about-'

A loud noise suddenly punctured the room. The bottle that Vernon had been holding had smashed in his hand, showering the white tablecloth and all of us with red wine. Vernon gaped stupidly at his drenched hand.

'I must have held it too tightly,' he babbled, still gaping at what he had done.

My mother pulled tissues out of her handbag and passed them round, while my father reassured Vernon that it was easily done, and Dudley moaned about his now ruined dinner.

In the chaos, however, I looked at Petunia. A truly odd expression was settling on her face. She seemed furious and scared at the same time, although I couldn't fathom why. Her eyes also kept flicking towards Harry who was sitting there looking quite shell shocked, although again I couldn't understand this; it wasn't his fault that Vernon's meaty hands had squeezed the glass too tightly.

'Well, I'd better clean this up,' said Petunia suddenly, as she stood up from the table and forced her face into a smile, 'Vernon, will you help me?'

The two of them went into the kitchen and closed the door, although I could still hear them talking in hushed voices.

'He's in trouble,' chuckled my father good-naturedly.

I turned to Harry, 'That was weird.'

'Yeah,' he said in reply, 'no doubt it'll be my fault. It always is.'

'How could it be your fault?' I demanded, my anger rising, 'It's your stupid uncle's fat hands that are to blame!'

'Zara!' exclaimed my mother very sharply, 'Do not talk like that!'

An awkward atmosphere seemed to hang over the rest of the meal. Petunia looked incredibly strained, while Vernon's face had become purple and he kept throwing looks at his nephew.

It wasn't much of a surprise that we left without having coffee.

'Thank you for the lovely evening,' beamed my mother sycophantically, as we walked out of the front door.

'Oh it was our pleasure,' replied Petunia, who still looked unnaturally put upon for someone who'd just consumed a large meal and several glasses of wine.

Vernon stood behind her, his face purple and sweating. His beady eyes kept flicking to Harry, who was standing against the wall looking rather worried.

'Come on, Zara,' said my father happily, as he waved goodbye to the Dursleys and headed down the driveway.

I, however, remained rooted to the spot, watching Harry. Vernon looked absolutely furious, and a wave of foreboding washed over me as I thought about what he might say to Harry once we'd left. Surely he couldn't blame Harry for the accident with the bottle of wine? Yet everything I'd heard about the Dursleys told me that he definitely could.

'I'll see you soon,' said Harry, giving me a fierce look that unmistakably urged me to leave.

'Bye,' I said, hesitating on the threshold but finally giving in and walking away from the house.

The shouting began as I headed down the driveway.

* * *

**Okay I realise there are similarities here with Aunt Marge's visit in the third book. I didn't intend for it to be like that but I wanted there to be hints to Zara that there's something different about Harry. **

**Also this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. It was initially combined with the next one but then I realised that they worked better separately so I split them into two. The next chapter is already written though so hopefully I'll post it tomorrow.**

**Anyway, thanks for reading, and please leave me a review :) **


	4. Summer 1991- Part Three

**Chapter Three**

**Summer 1991**

I didn't see Harry again for a week.

Every morning I would quickly eat some toast, kiss my father goodbye when he left for work, and then dash down to the park. But Harry was never there. I'd sit on a swing and wait for ages, watching the place fill up with children around me, but there was never any sign of him. One morning I saw Dudley and his gang, and thought about asking them where Harry was but I lost my nerve as I approached them and ended up hurrying away before they noticed me.

Nor did Harry come to my house. There would be a knock on the door but it would always be the postman or a friend of my mother's, and never him.

I was reluctant to go to number four and find him because I knew for a fact that the Dursleys didn't like Harry having a friend round. They seemed to make it their life mission to deprive him of any kind of joy, and had made it clear long ago that they preferred it when he was out of the house.

I also didn't want to ask my mother about Harry's mysterious disappearance because she would no doubt tell me off for pining and drag me shopping with her, or whatever else it was that she did during the day.

By the time the weekend came around, I was thoroughly miserable. I couldn't settle to anything, not even reading a book, because all I could do was wonder as to where Harry was.

By lunchtime on Saturday, I snapped. Why shouldn't I go to the Dursleys and find out what was going on? What was the worst that could happen?

'Mum, I'm going to the library!' I shouted, quickly heading out of the door before she could say anything; I didn't want her to know where I was really going because no doubt she'd try and stop me.

I walked quickly round to number four, wondering what on earth I was going to do when I got there. I'd assumed that the Dursleys had done something to Harry, but what if he simply didn't want to see me anymore?

Trying to ignore these thoughts, I headed up the driveway and rapped on the front door. It was pulled open almost immediately by Petunia Dursley, who was wearing yellow marigolds and who did not look at all pleased to see me; evidently the pleasantness was merely a façade for my parents' sakes.

'Is Harry in?' I asked.

'Yes,' she said, her eyes watching me closely as though she thought I might run past her into the house 'But he's not coming out, he's been grounded.'

'What for?' I asked in as polite a tone as I could muster; the last thing I needed was Petunia phoning my mother to say that I'd been on her doorstep being rude.

Petunia's eyes narrowed in annoyance at my question, 'That is none of your business.'

'Well when will he be allowed out again?' I demanded, my polite tone slipping somewhat in the face of her hostility.

'In a day or two, I should think,' she snapped, 'Now why don't you go and find something else to do? Dudley is out somewhere and I'm sure you'd have a much better time with him.'

And with that, she promptly shut the door in my face. I stood there for a moment, marvelling at how she could be so nice to my parents but so rude to me. Taking a few steps away from the door, I glanced up at the house and found myself wondering wildly if I could climb up to Harry's bedroom window.

I soon realised the impracticalities of this. Firstly, I didn't have a ladder, and secondly I had an irrational but strong fear of heights. Come to think of it, I didn't even know which bedroom Harry's was. I'd never been in it, and he'd never mentioned anything about it before. Maybe it was the front bedroom, the one which I could see from my own room if I stuck my head out of the window.

'Now really! I asked you to leave.'

Petunia Dursley had reappeared while I'd been staring up at her house wondering how I could liberate Harry. She looked even crosser this time.

'Zara, unless you leave now, I will telephone your mother. I have already told you that Harry is not coming out.'

'I'm going, I'm going,' I said hurriedly, as I walked away from the house.

Petunia watched me all the way down the road, as though worried I might double back and sneak into her house somehow.

I didn't want to go home and spend the day with my mother, however, so I headed down a little alleyway and found myself in the park. It was practically empty apart from a couple of toddlers being helped down the slide by their mothers. I threw myself onto one of mine and Harry's usual swings and thought about what I'd just been told.

It was definitely too much of a coincidence for Harry to have done something else to get him into trouble; he was undoubtedly being punished for Vernon breaking the bottle of wine. But why? Did the Dursleys just want someone to blame for anything odd that happened?

As I thought about it, I realised that Harry was always being punished for strange things which happened- and a lot of strange things did seem to happen around Harry. There was the time when he'd somehow ended up on the school roof. He'd sworn to me that he'd just tried to jump behind the rubbish bins, and had no idea how he'd ended up on the building, but the Dursleys hadn't seemed to believe his excuse.

And then there was the incident on Dudley's birthday a month or so ago. On the Monday after the weekend, Dudley and his rat faced friend, Piers, had spent all day telling the class that they'd been attacked by an escaped snake at the zoo. I hadn't believed it until Harry confirmed that a boa constrictor had somehow got out of its glass cage; it had even been in my father's newspaper that evening. Somehow this incident had also been blamed on Harry, as though he had the ability to make glass disappear at will.

The Dursleys definitely liked to scapegoat Harry whenever something odd happened, I decided, as I scuffed my feet on the ground beneath the swing. From what I'd heard, Petunia had despised her sister when she was alive, and no doubt Harry's father too. I had no idea if Petunia's descriptions of them were accurate, but I highly doubted it. There must have been something to make Petunia hate her sister though. Maybe Harry's mum was prettier or cleverer, or maybe they had a big argument once. Whatever the reason, it meant that the Dursleys also despised Harry.

It was just so unfair.

* * *

A couple of days later, I was sitting in the living room when there was a knock on the door. As usual I rushed to get it and this time, to my amazement, Harry was standing outside. As soon as I saw him, I flung my arms round him and gave him a tight hug, which he returned cautiously; Harry definitely wasn't an overly emotional person.

'Hiya,' he grinned, once we'd separated.

'Where have you been?' I demanded at once, 'I went to your house but your aunt said you'd been grounded.'

'I know, I heard you when you came round,' he muttered dejectedly, 'I got the blame for the bottle breaking.'

'What?' I yelped, 'How could they think it was you?'

'You know I always get the blame whenever something like that happens.'

'You won't always have to live with them,' I said quietly, squeezing his hand as I took in how miserable he looked.

'Won't I?'

'No,' I insisted firmly, 'One day you'll be old enough to live on your own. You won't have to have anything to do with them after that.'

Harry smiled weakly at me, clearly thinking that this was too far in the future for his liking.

I looked properly at my best friend, and took in the pent up frustration behind those emerald eyes. I wished that I could help him in some way, but I was completely powerless to do so. My mother would be no use because she agreed with Petunia that Harry was 'the wrong sort,' and my father wouldn't do anything that would annoy Mum.

The only thing I could do was to keep him out of the Dursleys' way as much as possible.

'Let's go the park,' I suggested.

'Okay,' said Harry, giving me a genuine smile that managed to lift my mood.

* * *

Harry and I spent the next couple of weeks virtually joined at the hip. We were free from school, and that gave us the chance to do whatever we wanted all day. We spent hours in the park, lounging on our swings and verbally abusing Dudley (when he wasn't around of course.) We explored the estate so much that we knew it like the back of our hand and had numerous secret detours and hide-outs. We dragged more and more stuff up to my attic so that it was practically a mini house in itself, and spent ages up their pretending that we really did live in our own place away from our families.

It may not have seemed like a particularly exciting summer to anyone else, but for me and Harry it was perfect.

Of course my mother was not happy about these arrangements and whenever I got home from seeing Harry, she would take the opportunity to moan about it.

'Why can't you make friends with Dudley?' 'Don't you want to spend some time with girl friends?' 'I wish you wouldn't mess around in that dirty park' were some of her favourite sayings.

I largely ignored her, however, and as July began to draw to a close, Harry and I continued to spend all our time together. On the Monday of the last week of the month, Harry and I met as normal. We were sitting in my attic, when he told me something unusual.

'A letter arrived for me this morning,' he said, as he took out a couple of cokes from the old mini fridge we had up there.

'And?' I said, more interested in my drink than some letter.

'It was weird,' frowned Harry, looking deep in thought, 'I never get letters from anyone.'

'Well who was this one from?'

'That's the thing. Uncle Vernon took it from me before I could read it.'

'There's nothing weird about that, Harry,' I said, pulling a face, 'It's just your uncle being an idiot as per usual.'

'No it was different,' insisted Harry, 'He and my aunt were really… I dunno, _worried _by it.'

'By a letter?' I asked, raising my eyebrows.

'Yeah,' said Harry, 'but I can't think what it could have said.'

'Okay, Harry,' I said, trying not to laugh.

As the week progressed, however, I had to admit that my curiosity was piqued. These mysterious letters arrived for Harry every morning, and each day there would be more and more of them. Apparently Vernon still hadn't let Harry get his hands on any of them, and was attempting to stop them being delivered altogether; his efforts were so far proving futile.

'Maybe they're from a long lost relative,' I suggested.

'I wish!' replied Harry, 'Maybe they say that I've inherited loads of money.'

'Or maybe they contain a big secret about the Dursleys.'

'Maybe I've won a prize.'

'Maybe you're being adopted by a celebrity.'

Our suggestions as to what the letters contained grew more and more ridiculous as the week progressed, so that by Friday we were seriously contemplating the possibility that Harry had been accepted for astronaut training at NASA.

I returned home from the park on Friday evening, to find my mother flicking through a recipe book and muttering to herself about dishes.

'The Dursleys are coming round for lunch on Sunday,' she told me, as she peered at a recipe for garlic crusted beef.

The fun mood which I'd been in from discussing the letters instantly vanished. My mother's friendship with Petunia Dursley had emerged unscathed from wine bottle-gate, much to my dismay. I had hoped, however, that we wouldn't have to have another dinner party. I had a horrible feeling that if even the smallest thing went wrong then Harry would be in trouble.

As usual, however, my mother ignored me and pressed on with her plans. Two days later, Sunday arrived, bringing with it an extravagant home-cooked meal and another monstrous dress for me to be forced in to.

'Do you think there'll be enough beef, Mark?' she asked my father as she peered into the oven.

'Yes dear,' replied Dad without looking up from his newspaper.

'I just want today to be perfect,' insisted my mother, looking rather frazzled as she dashed around the kitchen, 'Petunia has been acting very oddly this past week. She seems worried about something.'

So Petunia obviously hadn't told my mother about these mysterious letters that were apparently worrying her so much. This intrigued me more than anything because I couldn't think of any subject matter that Petunia would consider it appropriate to gossip about.

'It'll be fine,' my father reassured my mother, still flicking through _The Telegraph. _

But it soon became clear that all wasn't fine. The Dursleys were due to come round at twelve o clock, but that time came and went with no sign of them. My father phoned the house but there was no answer. By half one, I was starting to panic slightly. They were never usually late for anything, what if they'd done something to Harry?

'For God's sake, the beef is ruined!' exclaimed my mother, pulling a blackened piece of meat from the oven, 'Where on earth are they?'

'It is a bit odd,' conceded my father, glancing at the clock, 'Maybe they got the wrong day.'

'Maybe,' said my mother although she didn't look convinced. Her eyes fell on me, 'Zara, will you please run round and see if everything's okay?'

For once I jumped at the chance to do something for my mother, and hurried to get my shoes on. I practically sprinted to number four, and knew immediately that they weren't there because of the absence of Vernon's car, which he usually liked to keep on display on the driveway.

I knocked on the front door anyway, but wasn't at all surprised that no one answered. This was very odd. The Dursleys may have had many faults, but they were always organised and punctual. Feeling curious, I pressed my face against the glass panes of the front door. There was something there, on the floor.

The nature of the glass in the front door meant I couldn't see properly, so I ran to the living room window and peered in there.

Letters.

There were letters absolutely everywhere, hundreds of them. They all looked the same, and although I couldn't make out the name of the addressee on the envelope, I was certain that these were more of the odd letters which Harry had been receiving all week.

There were so many of them though. Who on earth would send that many letters to one person? It'd cost a fortune!

Feeling there was little point in remaining there, I began walking home, my mind whirling. Who was sending all these letters, and why were they causing the Dursleys such worry? Had the Dursleys disappeared today because of the letters, and if so, where had they gone?

'Well, did you see them?' demanded my mother when I walked back into the kitchen.

'No,' I said, shaking my head, 'There was no one there. Vernon's car had gone.'

I couldn't explain to myself why I didn't mention the letters, but I just had a strong feeling that I shouldn't tell my parents anything about them.

My parents exchanged perplexed looks, clearly as confused as I was.

* * *

The Dursleys never turned up for lunch, nor did they return home on Monday or Tuesday.

On Wednesday morning, just as my parents were debating whether or not they should call the police and report the Dursleys missing, the telephone rang and my mother rushed to answer it.

'Hello?'

A voice buzzed on the other end of the line.

'Oh it's you, Petunia!' exclaimed my mother, 'We've been worried about you all, where have you been?'

Petunia said something in response and my mother looked sympathetic, 'Oh no that's awful. I hope you're all okay now… no, don't worry about Sunday…no, it's fine… I'll pop round and see you once you've all recovered properly.'

'Mystery solved,' she announced, as she put the phone down, 'They were hospitalised with food poisoning. Apparently Petunia cooked a chicken on Saturday night, the oven didn't work probably and they didn't realise it was undercooked until they'd started eating.'

'All of them had food poisoning?' asked my father in disbelief.

My mother shrugged, 'Apparently the chicken was almost raw.'

This explanation seemed perfectly acceptable to my parents, both of whom continued eating their breakfast as though they hadn't a care in the world. I, however, couldn't relax. There was something odd going on.

* * *

The following morning, I raced round to number four, having been forbidden from going on Wednesday in case they were still ill.

Petunia opened the door, and she did certainly look as though she'd been under the weather. Her skin was pale and several worry lines were etched across her forehead as though she were under great stress.

'Is Harry in?' I asked quickly, before she could try and get rid of me.

To my surprise, however, Petunia didn't say anything. Instead, she merely jerked her head in the direction of the stairs and then disappeared into the kitchen without a word.

Ignoring her strange behaviour, I dashed up the stairs and looked around the landing; I had no idea which room was Harry's.

'Harry?'

Almost immediately, the door on my left was pulled open and Harry appeared in the doorway, looking surprised to see me. The contrast between him and Petunia was immense. While she looked as though she'd recently had an unpleasant shock, Harry looked better than I'd ever seen him. I couldn't explain it, but he seemed to radiate with anticipation.

'Hi,' he said, in what was a slight anti-climax.

'Hello,' I replied, feeling slightly awkward for some reason, 'Are you okay?'

'Yeah,' he grinned, not looking at all like he'd just been ill.

I stared at him for a moment, and then looked pointedly at his bedroom door, 'Can't I come in?'

Harry turned round to look in his bedroom, 'Erm, not really. I've got some stuff in there…'

He closed the door before I could peer inside the room, 'Listen, Zara, this isn't a great time.'

I stared at him disbelievingly; never once had either of us not wanted to hang out together.

'Where have you been?' I blurted out, 'There's no way you had food poisoning- you look brilliant.'

Harry blushed for a moment, but quickly recovered himself. Those emerald eyes looked into mine and I saw a spark there that I'd never seen before.

'The Dursleys had food poisoning,' he said after a minute, 'That's why they look so awful, and why they've been away.'

'What about you?' I probed, 'Did you find out who was sending those letters?'

As soon as I mentioned the letters, a grin broke out on his face that he failed to supress.

'Yeah, I did.' He took a deep breath, 'I've got a place at another school. It turns out my parents put my name down for it when I was born.'

I was stunned into silence for a moment. While we'd considered endless ideas as to what the letters could contain, I'd never thought it would be something like this.

'Where is this school?' I said after a while, in a small voice.

'In Scotland. My parents both went there, it's how they met.' Harry said all this in an incredibly excited voice, with a wide smile plastered across his face.

'You're going to Scotland?' I breathed, finding that my chest was constricting slightly. I'd reconciled myself to the fact that we would be going to separate schools, but I assumed they would be close to one another. If he went to Scotland he would never come home except during the holidays!

'Yeah!' he was smiling as though it was the best thing in the world.

'I have to go,' I said suddenly.

I turned on my heel, ran down the stairs and back out of the house. It was only when I'd hurried down the street and reached my own road that I turned back to look at number four.

Harry hadn't followed me.

* * *

My mother finally got her wish- I didn't see Harry again for the rest of the summer holidays. For some reason that I couldn't quite explain, I was furious with him. I knew I was being unreasonable, but I was so upset that I'd hardly see him again, and this was channelled into anger at him. Why did he want to go to boarding school in Scotland? Didn't he care that we would only see each other in the school holidays if he did?

I also knew there was something that I wasn't being told. Harry and I were closer than siblings, so I realised that he was keeping something from me. Why had he only just heard about this school? And why was he sent that many letters about it?

I mulled over these thoughts for the entire month of August, otherwise known as the four most miserable weeks of my life. Harry didn't come and see me, and I didn't go over to number four. Instead, I spent my days reading virtually every book in Little Whinging's library or- when it was unavoidable- going out with my mother.

By the time August drew to a close, I found that I was almost pleased to be going to Smeltings. It would be a fresh start, good or bad.

On the final day of August, I found myself treading the familiar route to the park that evening. I was under no delusion that I would see Harry, but I realised that I wanted to go there one final time before I left for school.

The place was deserted, so I trailed over to the swings and sat down on one, wrapping my arm around the chain. I was so consumed by my own thoughts that I didn't immediately realise when someone else took a seat on the swing beside me.

I looked up to see a familiar mess of black hair and green eyes.

'Hi,' I said, staring back down at the floor rather than at Harry.

'Hey,' he said.

We were silent for a while, both of us scuffing the ground with our feet and making the swings move slightly.

'Zara.'

Reluctantly, I swivelled round to face Harry. His eyes were burning into mine, as if trying to emphasise his words.

'I told you before that we'll always be friends, no matter what school we go to.'

I scoffed at this, 'Don't be stupid, Harry. We'll forget about each other within a week.'

I didn't mean any of this, but the harshness of my words still made him flinch slightly.

'I _have _to go to this school, Zara,' he said quietly, 'I just have to. I can't stay here, I really can't.'

I wanted to stay angry with him, to scream that he should go to Stonewall so we could see each other. But I couldn't. Harry was my best friend and if he wanted to go to this unknown school that his parents had signed him up for, then I realised that I couldn't argue with that. After ten years with the Dursleys, he deserved this.

And so, despite myself, I reached over and squeezed his hand in my own, just as I had done on the night of the infamous dinner party.

'We'll stay friends, Zara, I promise.'

* * *

**Okay I apologise for disappointing you, but Zara isn't a witch- this story will be set during the Hogwarts/ Smeltings school holidays. The next chapter will be set immediately after Harry's first year at Hogwarts. It may become slightly AU in that Harry spends more time in Privet Drive rather than at the Weasleys', but I'm not sure yet. It will also become a romance later on… **

**Oh I'm also sorry that this has been posted later than I promised! I was going to put it up the other day but I realised it needed some editing. **

**As always, thanks for reading. Please leave me a review! **


	5. Summer 1992- Part One

**Chapter Four**

**Summer 1992**

'It doesn't seem like we've been here a year, does it?'

I had to agree with Lizzie Green, my roommate and closest friend at Smeltings- it definitely didn't seem as though we'd already been at the school for a year. Year Seven had been a haze of introductions and getting lost, yet now it was all over until September.

It was mid-July and everyone was lugging their many suitcases and bags out of the dormitories, since the parents were due to arrive any moment.

'We need to meet up over the holidays!' insisted Lizzie, as we paused at the top of the staircase to let someone with five ridiculously large suitcases pass.

'I've already told you that you can come and stay,' I reminded her.

I had spent the Easter holidays with Lizzie's family at their home in Cornwall, so in return I'd promised she could come and stay at mine over the summer. Part of me had hoped that she'd decline and I'd have the entire holiday to spend with Harry, but another part of me was fully aware that Harry might well have made plans of his own that didn't involve me. Besides, Lizzie and I got on very well.

'I definitely will,' Lizzie assured me, as we made our way down the stairs, 'If I have to spend the entire holidays with Emma, I think I'd go crazy.'

I giggled at that, and pictured Emma, Lizzie's twin sister and a sort of female version of Dudley Dursley. Emma looked practically identical to the petite, brunette Lizzie, but that was where the similarities ended. While Lizzie was relaxed and spontaneous, Emma was spoilt and gossipy; I didn't have much time for the latter.

Lizzie and I reached the bottom of the stairs and joined the crowds of students heading towards the main gates, where our parents would be waiting. Part of me didn't want to leave, since I'd had such an amazing year. At my previous schools, I'd never seemed to fit in with anyone, except for Harry but that didn't really count since he was an outsider as well. At Smeltings, however, I'd found myself with several close friends for the first time in my life.

'See you in September!' called Lucy, another girl in my dormitory, as she headed off towards her waiting parents.

I waved at her, and then scanned the crowds for my own family. It only took me a moment to find them, even though all the parents looked fairly similar. I couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief when I noticed that they weren't standing with the Dursleys; I hadn't seen Petunia and Vernon for almost a year and had no wish to change that anytime soon.

My parents were standing together but with a couple of feet distance between them, neither of them looking particularly happy for some reason. My mother was wearing her usual skirt and blouse combo, and my father still had his work suit on- clearly nothing had changed in Little Whinging while I'd been away.

'Zara!'

I walked over to them, ensuring a wide smile was plastered on my face; my mother may have frequently driven me to distraction before I went to Smeltings, but I'd found over the past year that I really had missed her.

'Oh I've missed you!' exclaimed my mother, pulling me into a hug that knocked the wind out of me.

'Don't suffocate her, Linda!' laughed my father, giving me a hug himself once my mother had released me.

'Have you had a good year?' asked my mother.

'It's been brilliant,' I said truthfully, 'Hang on a minute.'

I turned round to see where Lizzie had gone. She was standing a few meters away with her parents and Emma. We caught one another's eye and I waved her over.

'Is it alright if Lizzie comes to stay during the summer?' I asked my parents quickly, as Lizzie and her family made their way over to us.

'Of course,' beamed my mother, evidently pleased I wouldn't be spending the entire holidays hanging around with Harry.

Lizzie's family reached mine and there was much handshaking and kissing between our parents. Emma, meanwhile, stood there and scowled- she really was an opposite sex version of Dudley.

'We'd be delighted to have Lizzie over during the holidays,' smiled my mother in the same sycophantic way she did whenever Petunia Dursley was around.

'Oh that would be lovely,' agreed Lizzie's mother, then her eyes fell on her second daughter and she frowned slightly, 'Emma, what will you be doing over the holidays?'

'Oh she's more than welcome to come and stay as well,' insisted my mother, as oblivious to Emma's horrible nature as she was to Dudley's.

Lizzie and I exchanged exasperated looks. One of the reasons why Lizzie was coming to stay was so that she could get away from her twin. I could only hope that Emma would find a better offer when the time came; she didn't like me or Lizzie anyway!

There was another round of goodbyes, with my mother promising to phone Lizzie's mum with the details, then my father picked up my suitcase and we headed out towards the car park.

As we made our way towards the car, my mother chattered excitedly about Lizzie and Emma, and how nice they both seemed. I hardly heard her, however. As I'd left Smeltings, it had suddenly hit me that I would be seeing Harry again.

I had no idea when his school finished, since we hadn't really been in touch over the year. Apparently students at his school were only allowed to telephone their parents so, apart from a letter over the Christmas holidays, I'd not seen or heard from him for almost a year.

I'd missed him, I knew that for sure. For the first few weeks, I'd missed him so much it hurt. But then as I'd settled in at Smeltings, this had lessened slightly. It was only now, when I was confronted with an impending reunion, that I realised just how much I wanted to see him.

'So, what do you want to do tonight?' asked my father, as we all climbed into the car, 'Pick anything you want.'

What I honestly wanted to do was to go and see Harry the moment I arrived home. However, I reminded myself that I hadn't seen my parents in months, and it would be more than a little bit rude to refuse to go out with them. Besides, it didn't look like they'd have much fun just with one another, I thought as I sat in the back and observed them. They'd yet to say a single word to one another, and there was a definite sense of hostility radiating from them both.

'We could go out for a meal?' I suggested, trying to push those thoughts about my parents out of my mind.

'Good idea,' agreed my mother, 'There's a new Italian that has just opened in town.'

'Sounds good,' I said, leaning back in my seat and gazing out of the window.

The car journey took an hour or so, and then we were suddenly driving alone the familiar street of Magnolia Crescent. As I climbed out of the car, I couldn't stop myself from glancing down the road towards Privet Drive.

'Is Harry home yet?' I asked, in what I hoped was a casual voice.

'I think he's back today or tomorrow,' answered my mother. Her voice remained even but the light frown that had appeared on her face displayed her true feelings.

'Okay,' I said, trying to keep my voice light; I didn't want an argument the first night I got home.

'I'll phone the restaurant, shall I?' continued my mother, watching me closely.

I nodded and followed my parents into the house.

Our home hadn't changed since I'd last been in there. The bowl we put the keys in was in the exact same spot, my mother's nude court shoes were pressed against the wall as usual, and the familiar black umbrella was propped up next to them; the sight was slightly depressing.

I headed upstairs and pushed open my bedroom door, taking in the sight of my familiar bedroom. Rather than being a comforting sight, however, it somehow made me long for the dormitories of Smeltings.

My parents' voices could be heard downstairs- presumably they were telephoning that restaurant. I knew I should be grateful that my parents were willing to take me out for a fancy meal, but all I really wanted to do was hurry round to number four. That was out of the question, however. For one thing, evening was closing in and the Dursleys were fussy about 'night time' visitors. Secondly, Dudley would have also returned home from Smeltings today, and I had little desire to witness the emotional reunion that was no doubt going on.

I turned back out of my room, and pulled down the ladder for the attic. As I climbed up, I realised with a leap of joy that my mother hadn't been up here to tidy while I'd been away. In fact, it was exactly as Harry and I had left it last summer. Various books were dotted over the place, cushions were strewn everywhere, and there was even an open packet of marshmallows left over from our famous marshmallow and chocolate biscuit sandwiches.

Feeling happy for the first time since I'd arrived home, I smiled to myself and collapsed into my favourite cushion.

I was definitely worrying necessarily about Harry, I thought as I sat there. So what if we'd both made separate friends at our new schools? The two of us would always be best friends because we had so much history together. I'd been Harry's friend when he was considered a social pariah and was constantly being bullied by Dudley. Then in return, Harry had been there for me when I was the new kid at school.

I sat there, feeling content, for a few minutes when I heard raised voices coming from downstairs. I couldn't quite make out what was being said, but the angry buzzing of my parents told me that something had annoyed them.

As usual, curiosity won against my better judgement, and I quietly descended the ladder and tip-toed across the landing.

I bet they're moaning about Harry, I thought darkly, as I crept down the stairs.

As I neared the kitchen door, however, it quickly became apparent that me and Harry were far from my parents' minds.

'I've already told you, Linda. Work is hectic at the moment!'

'Oh please! Mark you've been using that excuse for months now.'

'It's not an excuse!'

'Oh really? Well I spoke to Amy Thomas the other day and she said that Tim had been home on time every night last week.'

'So we've actually got to the point where you're spying on me, have we?'

I backed away from the door, not wanting to hear any more, and not wanting my parents to realise that I'd been eavesdropping.

I had no idea what they were talking about, although I knew that my father's increasingly long office hours had been a bone of contention for a while now.

It was unlikely that we'd be going out now, I thought, as I stood in the hallway unsure what to do with myself. I was about to make my way back upstairs when a kind of reckless abandon seized me.

Before I knew what I was doing, I'd pushed open the front door and headed out into the street. As I stood on my driveway, I chanced a glance at Privet Drive. There were lights on at number four, but that didn't tell me if Harry was home yet or not. Besides, I didn't dare face Petunia Dursley right now; the last time that I'd called for Harry after six, she had thrown a fit and phoned my mother.

The thought of going back inside and having to listen to my parents' argument however, was not appealing. So I did what I'd always used to do whenever I was worried or bored- I went to the park.

Even walking the familiar route made me relax, and I couldn't help but smile to myself as I ducked behind a row of hedges.

I fully expected the place to be deserted, but as I reached the edge of the field, I spotted a lone figure sitting on a swing. I was half tempted to turn back, as my parents' warnings about stranger danger rang in my ears. That was until I realised who it was.

It was Harry sitting on the swing, scuffing his feet against the ground. He hadn't noticed me yet, since his head was facing downwards as he watched his trainers rather than what was ahead of him.

This gave me the chance to look at him properly, as I walked slowly over to the swings. Harry had grown, and he was slightly less skinny and pinched looking. There was also something new about him, something that I couldn't quite pinpoint; I'd never seen him look so content.

'Hi,' I said, as I stood in front of the swings; admittedly the greeting was something of an anti-climax.

Harry raised his head and his green eyes popped with surprise as he noticed me standing there.

We glanced at each other for a moment, and then Harry suddenly jumped off the swing and hugged me.

'I've missed you so much!' I exclaimed when he finally released me and I was able to breathe again.

'Me too,' he said, smiling in his trademark lop sided way, 'How was Smeltings?'

'Yeah, it's good,' I replied dismissively; I didn't want to talk about my new school now! I just want to hang out with Harry like we used to.

'Mine is amazing!' His face shined with enthusiasm at the thought of his school, his emerald eyes dancing with excitement.

For some reason, this left me cold. I realised that as Harry's friend I should be pleased that he'd finally settled it somewhere, but I couldn't deny the fact that I was more than a little jealous.

'What's it like?' I asked in what I hoped was an interested tone of voice.

'Just brilliant,' said Harry vaguely, 'I've got these friends called Ron and Hermione…'

He went on about these two classmates for a good five minutes, my mood darkening with each passing moment. He kept talking about how great they were, although in my mind the unknown Ron and Hermione were completely different. I imagined them to be similar to Dudley and Emma, even though this was probably as far away from the truth as it was possible to be.

'… Ron's inviting me to stay at his during the holidays,' finished Harry, his face still alight with happiness.

'That's nice,' I said, although my voice revealed just how not nice I thought it to be.

'What's wrong?' frowned Harry.

'Oh nothing,' I said, attempting to sound normal, 'I've got a friend coming to stay over the holidays too. Her name's Lizzie.'

'Good,' smiled Harry.

I glanced at him incredulously, but his genuine grin suggested that he really was happy for me. For some reason this made me unreasonably angry. Harry should be devastated that I have plans that don't involve him! Doesn't he want us to spend the summer together just like we did last year?

Maybe last summer wasn't fun for him, said a small voice at the back of my mind. After all, we just spent our time wandering around the estate and hanging out in my attic. It was hardly top quality entertainment, so who could blame him for wanting to do something different this year?

'Are you sure you're okay, Zara? You look strange.'

'I'm fine,' I gulped, 'I just need to go home, my parents are taking me out for a meal.'

'Oh, okay,' said Harry, disappointment evident in his voice, 'Well I'll probably see you soon?'

I nodded, since I didn't trust myself to speak, and with that as a parting greeting I walked back across the field.

_I'll probably see you soon, _he had said. What did he mean probably? Had he already booked up his days with fun activities with Ron and Hermione?

It was perhaps lucky that I was so familiar with the area, or there was no way I would have found my way home- my thoughts were so preoccupied with Harry.

I snuck back in through the front door, and was relieved to find that my parents were still in the kitchen. They were no longer shouting at one another, but they were still talking in low, urgent voices about something.

At that point, however, I couldn't care less what they were talking about. Instead of listening at the kitchen door, I ran upstairs, not caring how much noise I made. Then I climbed back into the attic and threw myself down onto a cushion.

It took me a moment of sitting there in silence with tears pricking my eyes to realise what it was that had upset me so much- Harry and I were no longer each other's best friend.

* * *

**Awh poor Zara :p I realise the last couple of chapters have mainly been about her moping around thinking about Harry, but I promise the next one will be a little different. Dudley, Lizzie and Emma will be in it, and they'll be a massive argument. Then it'll move onto the summer before third year and that's when the hints of romance will begin… ;) **

**If anyone ships Hermione/ Viktor, I'm writing a multi-chapter story about them at the moment as well. It's called 'He Looks Really Grumpy'- please have a read (sorry for the self- plug!) **

**Anyway, as usual, thanks for reading and I hope you liked the chapter. Please leave me a review and let me know what you thought. **


	6. Summer 1992- Part Two

**Chapter Six**

**Summer 1992**

'Okay, so we'll see you later this afternoon then, Sharon. Okay, bye.'

My mother replaced the phone on its hook and turned to smile at me. The genuine happiness in her expression showed that for once she wasn't disappointed by anything.

'They'll be here around dinner time,' beamed my mother.

'Thanks,' I said, feeling honestly grateful that she had spoken to Sharon Green and arranged for Lizzie to come and stay so quickly.

I'd been home from Smeltings for just over a week, and if I didn't see a school friend then I was likely to go crazy. Harry and I had met a couple of times since the night I returned from school, but something had changed between us.

I for one, however, was not planning on spending the entire holidays mopping after him. After my brief evening of tears, I'd tried to toughen myself up; if Harry wanted to spend time with other friends then I would do exactly the same.

'I better go and make up the spare bed,' muttered my mother, as she bustled round the kitchen, 'I'm so pleased you've settled in so well at Smeltings, Zara.'

I forced a smile at her and took a bite of my toast.

Things would definitely get better once Lizzie arrived. We could explore the nearby town, which had recently opened a new shopping centre and state of the art cinema, or we could just hang out at my house discussing normal twelve year old girl things.

I was convinced that spending time with Lizzie would help me get over Harry so to speak. It would remind me that I did have other friends and that my relationship with him wasn't the be all and end all.

Or that was the plan anyway.

* * *

By four o clock that afternoon, I'd worked myself up into a state of hyperactive excitement. It may have been slightly forced, but underneath I truly was grateful that Lizzie was coming to stay.

The doorbell chimed just after four, and I dashed to open it before my mother could even put down her magazine.

'Hello!' squealed Lizzie, clearly feeling her usual cheerful self.

She was clutching a patterned quilt and dangling a little suitcase in one hand. Behind her, Sharon was walking up the drive, struggling under the weight of an incredibly heavy looking overnight bag. To my dismay, Lizzie's twin, Emma, was bouncing along behind her mother, her arms free of carrying anything.

'Hi,' I smiled at Lizzie, 'Come in.'

They all followed me into the hallway, just as my mother burst from the kitchen.

'Hello, Sharon,' beamed my mother, greeting the other woman as if she were an old friend, rather than someone she'd only met a handful of times.

Sharon, however, was looking rather harassed and not at all like her usual good natured self. She placed the heavy bag on the floor and puffed slightly as she attempted to regain her breath.

'This is going to sound incredibly cheeky, Linda,' Sharon began, as she gave my mother an apologetic look, 'But is there any chance that Emma could stay for the week as well please?'

'Of course!' smiled my mother, not even flinching at the prospect of having a third child staying in her house, 'We don't want her to feel left out, do we?'

I shot a horrified look at Lizzie, who rolled her eyes and mouthed 'sorry' at me. From behind her mother's back, Emma gave me a satisfied smirk.

What on earth had I done to deserve this? I'd had enough of Emma by the end of the first week at Smeltings, yet now she was apparently staying at my house despite not being invited to do so.

There was absolutely nothing I could do about it, however, without sounding rude. Besides, it was highly unlikely that my mother would take my side anyway; no doubt she'd be thinking that this was another person to distract me from Harry.

'Shall I help you take that upstairs?' I asked Lizzie, pointing at the duvet she was carrying.

'Yeah, okay,' she said, catching on immediately.

I led the way up the staircase and opened my bedroom door. Our house had four bedrooms. One was my parents, one was mine, one was spare and one was used as a study for my father. Lizzie was supposed to be sleeping in the spare room, but now it looked like I'd have to share my room with either her or her sister- I knew immediately which one I'd prefer.

'You don't mind sleeping in here, do you?' I asked nervously, 'It's either with me, or with Emma.'

'Oh I'll definitely sleep in here! It can be like a sleepover.'

I smiled at her and then remembered why I'd suggested we go upstairs.

'Why is Emma here?' I demanded.

Lizzie rolled her eyes again and sat down on the edge of my bed.

'Well as soon as she found out that I was coming here for the week, she got really jealous. You know what she's like. If I do something then she has to do the same even if she doesn't really want to. So she threw a strop and my dad always gives in to her, and he said we'd see if she could stay too.'

'But she doesn't even like me!' I protested, wondering why on earth you'd want to stay in the house of a person you didn't like.

'I know, but she hates being left out,' complained Lizzie. Suddenly her face brightened, 'Hey, didn't you say that Dudley Dursley lives around here? We can just palm Emma off on him most days.'

'Good idea,' I said, feeling considerably more optimistic myself.

Emma and Dudley were friends- if you could call banding together to bully people a friendship. For some unfathomable reason, Emma thought he was brilliant, and would no doubt relish the chance to see him.

'Doesn't your friend, Harry, live with him?' asked Lizzie conversationally.

'Yeah, although he said he might be going to stay with some of his school friends.'

There must have been something in my voice that betrayed my true feelings, because Lizzie frowned as I spoke.

'And you're not happy about that?' she guessed accurately.

'Well it's up to him how he spends the holidays, and I am glad that he's made friends. But he doesn't seem interested in me anymore.'

Lizzie rolled her eyes, 'I'm sure that's not true, Zara. You've both gone to new schools and met new people, it's completely normal.'

'Yeah I suppose.'

'It'll be fine,' assured Lizzie, 'Anyway, we're going to have an amazing week.'

* * *

Unsurprisingly, Lizzie was right- we did have a great week.

To my delight, Emma was incredibly enthusiastic about seeing Dudley, so she disappeared off to number four most days and left me and Lizzie to our own devices. After hearing Emma gush about Dudley for the fourth consecutive night, I was in no doubt as to the real reason why she'd wanted to stay.

Meanwhile, Lizzie and I had a great time just the two of us. We spent most days in the local town, watching endless films at the new cinema. In the space of a week we managed to see _Batman Returns _three times, which of course meant we spent the rest of the time quoting it and driving Emma insane. We even snuck into see the third _Alien _film and were both too scared to sleep with the light off that night.

Still, it was one of the best weeks of my life. For once I wasn't my usual overly serious, bookish self; I was just another twelve year old girl running around with her friend.

Perhaps because of how much fun I had with Lizzie, I didn't have much time to think of Harry. When the last day of Lizzie and Emma's visit dawned, I realised with a jolt that I hadn't seen him for seven days, and that he hadn't bothered coming to see me either.

'What's up?' asked Lizzie from her camp bed on my bedroom floor, 'And don't even think about saying nothing.'

'I wasn't going to!' I protested, but she simply smirked at me, 'Okay, okay, maybe I was. It's just Harry. He's not been to see me for a week!'

'Oh for God's sake!' sighed Lizzie in an exasperated voice, 'He knows you've had a friend round, he probably thinks we'll be busy.'

'You might be right,' I admitted grudgingly.

'I know I am,' said Lizzie, 'Seriously, Zara, you need to man up over Harry.'

I giggled and tried not to think about him. If he didn't want to see me then that was his problem; this week had shown me that I was more than capable of having a good time with other friends.

'Girls, breakfast is ready!' called my mother from downstairs.

'I don't want to go home today,' complained Lizzie, as we both got up and trudged downstairs in our pyjamas.

Emma was already sitting at the kitchen table when the two of us got downstairs. She was picking at a bowl of cereal and talking animatedly to my mother, who seemed to be hanging on her every word. Over the past week, my mother had grown to idolise Emma for some unknown reason.

'Good morning, girls' smiled my mother, noticing me and Lizzie, 'There's toast on the table.'

We both took a seat across from Emma, who immediately turned to talk to me.

'I really don't want to leave, Zara, I've had such a lovely time,' she pouted.

'Oh, really?' I said, trying to keep the amusement from my voice; the only time I'd seen Emma was at meal times, since she'd been off with Dudley for the rest of the week.

'I was just saying to your mother that I'm going to go and say goodbye to Dudley after breakfast,' she continued, using the pleasant voice that was purely reserved for when adults were nearby, 'I'm going to miss him!'

'Oh that's a shame,' clucked my mother sympathetically, 'I do like the Dursleys. Petunia is a good friend of mine.'

'Yes she's lovely,' agreed Emma.

I couldn't help but choke on my orange juice at that point, which ensured both Emma and my mother turned to look at me.

'What are your plans for today, Zara?' asked my mother, a hint of disapproval in her voice.

I glanced at Lizzie who shrugged in response.

'Well don't go far,' said my mother, 'Sharon is coming just after lunch.'

Unfortunately she was right, and by the time we'd all finished our breakfast, there were only a handful of hours left. Emma disappeared off to number four the moment she put her spoon down, leaving Lizzie and I unsure what to do.

'Didn't you say there's a park really near here?' asked Lizzie.

'Yeah, just round the corner.'

'Let's go there then,' decided Lizzie, already moving towards the door.

Even though I'd had a fantastic week with Lizzie, it still felt strange walking along the familiar route to the park with her. I'd never been there with anyone else, only Harry. I knew it was stupid, but the place just reminded me of me and him when we'd been at Brookside together; it seemed wrong somehow to be in the park with a different friend.

Nevertheless, we headed there and took a seat on the thick grass that bordered the swings. We'd been sitting there for less than five minutes when a familiar voice shouted my name.

Harry was walking across the grass towards us, smiling brightly.

'Is that Harry?' asked Lizzie, as she watched him head over to us.

'Yeah,' I nodded, feeling slightly nervous; I'd told Lizzie loads about Harry, and I didn't want him to disappoint.

'Hello' smiled Harry, waving at us and taking a seat next to me on the grass; he glanced at Lizzie and then gave me a pointed look.

'Oh yeah, sorry,' I laughed, 'Harry this is Lizzie, she's my best friend at Smeltings. Lizzie this is Harry, he's Dudley's cousin.'

'Please have my sincere sympathies,' said Lizzie, her facial expression suitable for a particularly sad funeral.

Harry snorted with laughter, 'Thanks.'

'Lizzie is Emma's sister,' I explained.

'Oh is that the girl who's been trailing after Dudley all week?' snickered Harry.

'Yep,' said Lizzie, 'She's about as nice as your cousin.'

'I thought you were going to stay with your friend, Ron,' I asked Harry, wondering why he was hanging round in our old park rather than being off with his school friends.

Harry shrugged and avoided my eye, which of course made me feel instantly guilty. Clearly something hadn't worked out with his plans. Either his friends were busy, or the Dursleys had banned him from going out.

'So where do you go to school, Harry?' asked Lizzie, in a wildly transparent attempt to end the awkwardness.

'Boarding school in Scotland,' he replied, as a smile grew on his face at the thought of his school.

'Oh my cousin goes to boarding school somewhere in Scotland!' exclaimed Lizzie excitedly, 'What's your school called?'

'Erm-' began Harry, before I interrupted him.

'Look who it is,' I muttered, glancing across the field.

Lizzie and Harry's heads turned and as they spotted who I'd just seen, their faces fell into comical, identical grimaces.

Dudley Dursley was waddling across the grass, wheeling an expensive looking bike, and accompanied by Emma. She was skipping along beside him, chattering away about something. Dudley's old friend, Piers, was also with them but he was hanging back slightly, his rodent face dark and sullen.

As they neared Lizzie, Harry and me, Emma looked up and noticed us. Her malicious eyes lit up, and she nudged Dudley, who suddenly looked as though Christmas had come early. He whispered something to Piers, who immediately cheered up, and now looked rather excited.

A feeling of nausea rose up in me as the three of them walked over to us. I'd not seen Dudley bully Harry for a while, in fact the last couple of times that I'd encountered them together, Dudley had seemed almost wary of his cousin. But now that he was backed up by Emma and Piers, Dudley seemed to have regained some of his old meanness.

'What are you doing with _him?' _Emma asked of me and Lizzie, her nose scrunched up in an unappealing way.

'Shut up, Emma!' hissed Lizzie quickly.

'Yeah, we could ask you the same thing,' I shot back, earning myself a menacing glare from Dudley.

'Go away, Dudley,' said Harry coolly, not seeming remotely fazed by the situation.

Dudley met his cousin's gaze and suddenly seemed to lose his nerve.

'Let's go,' he grunted to Emma and Piers, both of whom looked rather surprised.

'What's wrong, Dudley?' insisted Emma, 'You're not going to let _him _tell you what to do are you?'

'Oh get lost, Emma,' I snapped, 'You don't know anything about Harry.'

Perhaps sensing a challenge, Emma's eyes narrowed evilly.

'Oh yes I do,' she declared, 'I know he's an orphan who no one wants, I know that he's been a burden of Dudley's family all his life, I know that he's got no friends at his school.'

'Stop it, Emma,' urged Lizzie, who was looking at her sister as if seeing her clearly for the first time.

Harry meanwhile, was also looking at Emma as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. I couldn't blame him, after all, he'd barely spoken to the girl before yet here she was insulting him just to impress Dudley.

'Go away Emma,' I repeated, glaring at her in an attempt to reveal the anger I was currently feeling.

Emma snorted and glanced back at Dudley, who was looking both impressed and somewhat terrified.

'Come on, Zara, we all know you think the same,' she said, an evil grin breaking across her face.

'I'm sorry?' I asked, genuinely confused as to what she was getting at; I doubted that I'd ever mentioned Harry's name in front of her before.

Emma threw another look at Dudley to check she still had his attention, and then turned back to face me, Lizzie and Harry.

'Don't lie, Zara, we all know he's your charity case. You've told us that plenty of times at Smeltings.'

'What?' I gasped, wondering how on earth someone could be so malicious.

'Yeah that's true,' interjected Piers, speaking for the first time, 'Come on, you're always laughing about it.'

'Yeah,' continued Emma, 'The messed up orphan you befriended just to annoy your parents.'

Beside me, I heard Harry's sharp intake of breath. There was no way he could actually believe this, was there?

'I'm going,' he muttered quietly, before standing up and walking across the field without a word to anyone.

I watched him go with an unusual mixture of sadness and anger bubbling away inside of me. Emma's words had been horrible, but why on earth had he believed them? He knew why I was his friend, and that was because I liked him- or at least I'd thought that he did.

As I watched his skinny form disappear through a gap in the hedges, I became aware that Emma and Lizzie were arguing.

'How dare you?' Lizzie practically screamed at her sister, 'How dare you?'

'Oh come on, Lizzie, it was just a laugh,' said Emma, who looked slightly wary of her enraged twin.

'But you just made all of that up!' yelled Lizzie, 'Just to impress Dudley!'

Emma glared at her sister for adding that last bit, and turned to look at Dudley. The latter was looking rather shell shocked and more than a little bit worried.

Good, I thought maliciously, I hope you're terrified of Harry.

'I better get home,' said Dudley, and he too took off across the field, with Piers following in his wake.

Emma spared me and Lizzie one furious look, before she hurried after the boys, calling out to them as she did so.

'I can't believe she did that,' muttered Lizzie, 'She only wanted to impress Dudley, that's why she said those things.'

'I know,' I said quietly.

'Are you okay?'

I looked at Lizzie and shook my head, 'No I'm not. Harry believed her, he believed that I'd said those things about him.'

'I'm sure he didn't,' said Lizzie quickly, 'He just wanted to get away from Emma and Dudley.'

I shook my head again, 'No, he definitely did. He thinks I've been laughing about him at Smeltings. How could he? He should know that I would never do anything like that!'

An irrational anger was building up inside of me. Emma may have been wrong in saying those awful things, but it was Harry who had chosen to believe them. He knew me better than anyone for God's sake! Or at least I'd thought that he did.

'Come on, let's go home,' I muttered to Lizzie, and we began a slow trek across the grass.

* * *

Lizzie and Emma left that afternoon amidst one of the worst atmospheres I'd ever experienced. Neither me nor Lizzie were talking to Emma, but Lizzie seemed to have taken the situation even worse than me. I could tell she was horribly embarrassed by how her sister had behaved, and therefore felt incredibly guilty. Emma, meanwhile, was annoyed that Lizzie had revealed her true intentions in front of Dudley, and was therefore not talking to us either.

Incredibly, my mother managed to miss the fact that there was so much tension the hallway was at risk of igniting. She waved the girls off as though they were her second and third daughters, and then pronounced the week a spectacular success as soon as they had left.

'You need to invite them to stay again,' she insisted over dinner that evening, 'They're such nice girls, especially Emma, and you had such a fun week.'

I merely nodded and busied myself with the lasagne on my plate.

* * *

The next week was not half as fun as the previous. It seemed as though the long days spent running around town with Lizzie had taken places several months ago, rather than just a few days previously.

I had nothing to do expect accompany my mother to the shopping centre, the nail salon, the hairdressers and the grocers shop; I got so bored that, in a moment of weakness, I even consented for her to curl my hair in the dreaded child beauty pageant style.

Of course this gave me endless time to brood about Harry, who I'd had no contact with since the last day of Lizzie and Emma's visit. I understood that what Emma had said must have upset him, but I was fuming that he'd believe her over me, especially when it had been so obvious that she was merely trying to look 'cool' in front of Dudley.

Harry's twelfth birthday came and went, and I still didn't relent and go round to number four. I refused to act as though I had something to apologise for; he should know perfectly well that he wasn't my charity case who I'd befriended just to annoy my parents.

A few days after Harry's birthday, however, something happened which made me change my mind.

It was evening and my father arrived home late from work, something which was a near-daily occurrence nowadays. On this particular night, he was so late that I was already in my pyjamas and getting ready to go to bed, when he stumbled through the door.

I was just leaving the upstairs bathroom when he got home, and despite being on the landing, I could smell the fumes of alcohol on him. This was a bit of a surprise, since my father rarely drank; it was my mother who would pour a glass of wine at five o clock on the dot every evening. I could only assume that he'd gone for a drink with some work colleagues, and that was the reason as to why he was late.

My father stumbled down the hallway and pushed open the door leading into the kitchen, where I knew my mother was sitting. Someone shut the door behind him, but their voices still carried up the stairs to my ears, particularly my father's, since alcohol had obviously robbed him of any volume control.

'…only a drink, I don't see what the problem is. You're hardly one to talk.'

'You know it's not about the alcohol!'

'I work bloody hard, I'm allowed to go for a pint with a mate every now and then.'

'A mate… do you ever think about what this is doing to Zara?'

Hearing my own name mentioned suddenly brought me to my senses like an electric shock. I definitely didn't want to hear the rest of their conversation.

My parents' arguments were becoming more and more frequent these days, and although they were always about something different, I could see the main issue behind them all- their marriage was in trouble.

The realisation made me gasp out loud, and I had to lean back against the wall to steady myself.

And that was what made me realise that I needed to break the standoff with Harry; I needed someone to talk to. I usually bottled up my feelings and kept things to myself, but I suddenly needed someone to let things out with.

I'd go and see him the next morning, I resolved. I'd walk over to number four and wouldn't leave until we'd sorted out our problems.

Perhaps because of nerves over the reception Harry would give me, I slept fitfully that night. I repeatedly woke up, lay awake for five or ten minutes and then fell asleep again.

Strange dreams plagued me as well throughout the night. One of them involved my parents announcing their divorce, and then my father running off with Petunia Dursley. My mother chased them both down Privet Drive on Dudley's racing bike, and beat my father with a hairdryer.

The second dream was even more peculiar. It involved me climbing out of bed and gazing out of the window towards Privet Drive. It was still night time outside, and the entire area was deserted except for the fact that there was a blue car parked in mid-air. The passengers were all red-haired, and they seemed to be waiting outside number four.

The following morning, when I was fully awake, however, I soon forgot both of these odd dreams: when I dashed round to the Dursleys' house after breakfast, I discovered that Harry had disappeared.

* * *

**I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long to update! I've been away on holiday without a laptop or wifi, and this chapter took a while to write anyway.**

**I hope it was okay. Please please please leave me a review :) **


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